


One Truth

by archerhatesyou



Category: Bleach
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Headcanon, Post-Soul Society Arc, or rather sort of near the end of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archerhatesyou/pseuds/archerhatesyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>is all she ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Truth

"You asked for me, Tosh— _Captain_ ," she corrected smilingly.

He crossed his arms and frowned. "We've been getting some complaints about your . . . attire."

Now she crossed her arms—slowly, deliberately. This of course had a wonderful effect on her bosom. "And what might they concern?" she asked sweetly.

Hitsugaya pursed his lips, unimpressed. "You know that doesn't work on me."

"I am _fully_ aware."

"Please, don't make this—"

"But what's the big deal? Why now? I mean, this—" she vaguely indicated her sizeable chest—"didn't happen yesterday."

"It doesn't—matter," he bit, snatching the pink stole from her shoulders with a quick _snak_. "They're saying something now."

She held up her palms. "Fine," she hedged. "Take the scarf."

"And wear your badge."

Rangiku raised an eyebrow, pointed to her hip.

"You're not _wearing_ it."

Her eyes closed lightly. "Fine. I'll go ahead and fix the cleavage before you have to embarrass yourself by saying it."

"Thank you." Offhandedly he added, "And lose the necklace."

She stopped, blinking back rage to a reasonable anger. She advanced and poked fiercely at his chest. "You get an order from the Central 46 before I lose the necklace."

With that, she stormed off.

* * *

Rangiku had the badge balanced on her arm, one end of the sash between her teeth, free hand fishing around the far side of her sleeve. "This is so stupid." She couldn't quite get hold of the loose end for simple frustration.

"Don't _you_ look different."

She jumped to find Gin approaching and sighed. "I finally got a citation."

He said nothing, just stood there looking with that same observant eye, luminous smile, as always. She felt intensely scrutinized, more so than usual, so she tied the badge back at her waist to keep busy.

"I don't get it, maybe you can enlighten—do captains get special privileges or something? Kuchiki gets his stupid scarf that's worth—more than my life. Not to mention the ridiculous coiffure. And the _hand warmers_ , what the hell is that, anyway."

"You're awfully critical today."

She stopped and put a hand on her hip, feigning nonchalance. "What do you want, Gin?"

As he stepped forward she shied away, but he grasped her arm. She turned her face away to deflect, but this only allowed him closer. She could feel his breath through her hair, ghosting just over her ear.

"We used to be such good friends," he purred. "What changed?"

For the first time she met his eyes. " _You_ changed."

He grinned, mocking. "Am I really all that different?"

She turned away, not wanting him to find out so easily that she couldn't answer. Then his fingertips were at her chest.

"You know." She shivered as they traced her neck. "I could take this back. Anytime I wanted."

"Be my guest," she spat.

His smile dissipated. In one swift motion he gathered the necklace in his fist and yanked it away. The quiet snap of the chain hurt more than the back of a hand against her cheek. Suddenly gentle again, a long, lithe hand slipped around her wrist. She wrenched it back from him, and she hated that his response was a smile. They stared, unbroken even as he dangled the necklace between them: his eyes sealed off from all emotion, hers brimming with tears. Furious, she snatched the thing from his fingers, and in a whirlwind of pain and defeat she left.

Once again, she had submitted.

* * *

She didn't hear when Momo entered her quarters. She was too busy trying to bend the broken links of her necklace back into place. Of course her fingers and nails weren't enough, and she didn't have the right tools to fix it herself. Yet still she tried. When Momo's hand brushed comfortingly against her back, she pressed her face to the girl's shoulder and cried. The chain finally slunk from her hands, falling to the floor with a painful _tink_. It was all a silver puddle now.

* * *

"Anything."

"Anything?" Her cheeks were dry, but prickled as if that might change.

"Anything."

She rocked from side to side slowly, tense, the floor hard against her knees. "Why are you doing this?"

He frowned. She'd caught him in a lie, and he didn't appreciate it.

"You said _anything_."

His tongue ran over his lips. His arms crossed. Nothing to show what he might be thinking.

"What am I supposed to do, Gin?" He stood, casually looming, as she sat clenching her fists and feeling very small. "You tell me you're going, and give me one final shot at some truth?"

"Anything."

"Just one thing? Years upon years, a lifetime of lies, and I only get a single truth?"

"You can't ask much more of me."

Perhaps the most honest thing he'd ever said.

"Ask anything of me, and I have to answer."

"I'd rather ask nothing."

His coolness was a bit stilted, teeth flashing. "Why."

"Because I don't know what I'd get in return."

But now he just cocked his head, face blank. A curiosity—that's what she was to him.

Rangiku lowered her head, hair falling to obscure her sight. "If it's something I really want, I'll still never know whether or not it's true. And even if it is true, I'll spend the rest of my life regretting what I'd asked. The rest of my life as a list of what I should have asked instead."

For a few moments, he was quiet. "What, then?"

Her palms were hot against her knees. "Tell one."

"I'm sorry?"

"You choose the truth. The one so-called truth I'll ever get. I won't regret it if it's not my choice. So for once in your life, tell a truth."

He shook his head, his eyes hidden behind that silver hair, glinting like a sheet of rain. To see him struggle against himself was frightening. He wanted so badly to tell that truth, but even now, at the moment of the one chance he would ever have. . . .

There was a look on his face she had never seen before, not only in its emotion; it was something _genuine_. Sadness, maybe. Real this time. He ran a hand over the wheaten waves of her hair, frowning, watching the path of his palm.

Then he was gone.

And Rangiku wept.


End file.
